The Moody Veela Chronicles
by Hanako A
Summary: Hermione has known that Malfoy was part veela ever since their third year. Tired of his constant brooding over his fate and his mate, she decides to take matters into her own hands.
1. Chapter 1

**The Moody Veela Chronicles**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine as HP doesn't belong to me.

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Nestled deep within the stacks of the Hogwarts library, Hermione ran her finger along the spines of books as she sought out a volume she needed for her Potions essay. Then a shiver ran down her back as she got the feeling that someone was watching her discreetly. Again.

She rolled her eyes. Of course _he _had to make an appearance just as she had finally located the book she wanted. He had always been an annoyance to her and there was no reason for him to stop now. She stood patiently as she mentally counted to ten, waiting for her watcher to make a move. Which of course he didn't. He never did.

Hermione had quite enough of this nonsense. She whirled around and glared at the shadows she knew he was hiding in. She stared intensely for a moment, catching a brief glimpse of the silver hair that always gave him away. It was foolish, really. "Stop that," she said irritably. "I know you're there, so there's no point in trying to hide."

No response.

She huffed indignantly. "Honestly! Who do you think you're trying to fool? Not me, I hope. There are reasons why I'm known as the cleverest witch in our year. If you think that I haven't noticed that you've been all but stalking me…well, let's just say I thought you were more intelligent than that, Malfoy."

He skulked out of the shadows he had been trying to hide in, sulking all the way. "I haven't been stalking you, Granger," he groused. "You just happen to be where ever I go."

"Convenient that. And here I thought you had memorized my schedule." Malfoy turned paler than usual, confirming her suspicions. "I thought so," she muttered. "All right then. Isn't there something you need to tell me?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

Malfoy lowered his head and refused to meet her gaze. "No," he said stubbornly.

"Are you positive about that? I haven't got all night, you know."

His lips quirked up into a small grin. "No you don't. You've got that Potions essay to work on, don't you?"

"Funny how you seem to know all about that," she shot back.

"Can't help it. You've been whining about it all day to the wonder twins."

"Oh! So you noticed how I arranged for them to leave me alone this evening? You can thank me for that later. Right after you finish making your confession to me."

His head snapped up. "Excuse me?" he said. "I've nothing to confess to. I've done nothing wrong. Last I checked the library was open to all Hogwarts students." Sarcasm practically dripped off of his every word.

"Oh really?" She tapped one finger against her chin. "And here I thought you might finally own up to the fact that you're part veela." She was gratified to see his jaw hit the floor. "But I guess if you're not even ready to tell me that much, you weren't even thinking about possibly telling me how I'm your mate and all."

It was really quite amusing how Malfoy stumbled backwards out of pure shock. "What the…how could you…who told you!" he demanded in a thundering voice.

"Considering that we're in the library, you might want to think about keeping your voice down," Hermione told him.

He sneered at her suggestion. "We're too far away for Pince or anyone else to hear us," he stated. "And you haven't answered my question. Who told you? Because when I get my hands on—"

She rolled her eyes again. "Please. No one told me. Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm the only one who figured out on her own back in third year that Professor Lupin was a werewolf. And you've shown all the classical signs of being a part veela."

She started ticking them off on her fingers. "First off, there's your coloring. Silver hair and eyes? That's a dead giveaway. Then there's your attractiveness to the other sex. I suppose you're not homely." She stopped to glance over at him and then amended that statement. "In fact, I can see why witches might find you handsome. But that in itself doesn't explain how so many witches fall all over themselves to be near you seeing how you're just a nasty, foul-mouthed ferret at heart. That could only be due to your veela charms."

"Ever consider that they're after my fortune?" he asked.

She snorted. "That _might _explain Parkinson—with an emphasis on the might as I really don't think that she's that shallow—but it certainly doesn't explain the rest of the witches who hang on your every word." She shook her head from side to side. "No, I'm afraid that when you tally up everything, the only explanation that makes sense is that you're part veela."

She ignored his protests and went on. "So after reaching that conclusion, it was very easy to figure out just why you have been following me around. I'm your mate, obviously, and you can't help yourself. Some might call that charming." She wrinkled her nose. She wouldn't be one of those fools. "It's kind of tiresome actually to always have someone trailing after you. Again I know you can't help yourself. You've probably imprinted on me ever since I slapped you back in third year. Trust me, if I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have ever done that."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," he muttered.

Something about his tone of voice made her take a closer look at him. He was scowling—handsomely of course in a way designed to set the typical maiden's heart aflutter. She wasn't the typical maiden, however, so instead she acknowledged the truth of his statement. "No, it wouldn't have. You still would have been obsessed with me. From what I understand, nothing could have prevented that. It's too bad really."

"It is, isn't it?" he drawled. "Now if you'll excuse me…."

"No, I won't. Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to my room. You do want me to leave you in peace, don't you?" A glint of hope shimmered in his eyes. "Don't tell me that my veela charms are finally working on you?" he asked breathlessly, taking a step towards her.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not. I'm not as easily influenced as the sillier witches of your acquaintance."

His shoulders slumped at her response. "I can't say that I'm surprised. I'd best be going then. It's not like there's anything else for us to discuss."

She sniffed haughtily. "I beg to differ. We have plenty talk about."

He adopted a pain expression. "No, we don't. I already know how this is going to go, Granger. Yes you're my mate, but that doesn't mean that you like me much. In fact, I pretty much disgust you, don't I? That's why you couldn't wait to reject me," he finished bitterly.

"Who ever said anything about rejecting you?"

It was Malfoy's turn to snort. "Please. As if you would do anything else after the way I've teased and taunted you throughout the years." His lower lip jutted out into a pout, and his whole demeanor was one of dejection. Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the six-feet plus of moody veela she had in front of her. Brooding certainly suited Malfoy, but it also reminded her how unsuitable he was for her.

She really didn't need that much drama in her life.

Hermione sighed and edged closer to Malfoy. "Yes, you were a right git to me and my friends. But I'm not going to hold that against you." She reached out to grasp one of his hands in hers. She patted it comfortingly. "I know you couldn't help yourself. You had to get my attention some way, and that was the only way you knew."

However, instead of soothing him as she had intended, Malfoy only became more distressed. He scrunched his eyes closed. "This is only a dream. It has to be a dream. This can't be happening. It just can't be," he mumbled himself. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Hermione still holding his hand. "Can this be real?" he asked softly.

Hermione got the sense that scolding him wouldn't help matters. "Of course this is real," she said gently. She dropped his hand. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached out to cup his left cheek with her right hand. "Honestly! Did you truly believe that I was going to reject you and let you die of a broken heart?"

The fear in his eyes was the only answer she needed. She shook her head from side to side and crossed her arms once more. "You really don't know me, do you? I'm not that sort of witch. I'm not that cold-hearted or cruel. You might not be the wizard of my dreams, but somehow I'll make do."

In an instant, his attitude changed completely. "Not the wizard of you dreams?" he scoffed. He preened like the peacock he was. "Don't kid yourself, Granger. What's not about me to love?"

"You mean aside from the fact that you're an arrogant, self-centered coward?" she asked.

He glowered at her. "So I may be a little proud, but I have reason to be." He then adopted a wounded look. "And how can you call me selfish when all I want is for you to be happy?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Because you're happy when I'm happy?" She clucked her tongue. "Not that you know how to make me happy."

"Oh I assure you, Granger, I know how to make you happy." He waggled his eyebrows in an obscene manner at her. "I know how to make you very happy."

She swatted at his arm. "Not like that," she huffed. "There'll be none of _that _until after we're done with our schooling. Besides that's more like keeping your own self happy and satisfied."

"Don't worry, Granger, you'll be satisfied too. Or should I say satiated?" He looked down at her, taking advantage of the difference in their heights to leer at her breasts.

"Argh! This is exactly what I mean about you _not _being the man of my dreams! Honestly! As though I'd dream about having a hulking, possessive Neanderthal like you for a mate." She tossed her hair about.

He coughed. "That doesn't exactly explain Krum, now does it?" he remarked snarkily.

"Good point." She beamed at him. He took a step back, not liking the look in her eyes.

"Um…Granger?"

"Yes?" she answered absent-mindedly.

He gulped nervously. "What are you thinking?"

If anything that only made her smile even brighter. Malfoy wasn't the wizard she would have chosen for herself. He was far too high strung and far too high maintenance for her liking. However he was genuinely intelligent, and that meant he could be taught.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked archly. At his nod, she bounced over to him. "I was thinking how best to train you to make you into a better wizard." She cocked her head. "There's your veela traits of course. Veela are infamous for being jealous, and my best friends are wizards. I can't be having you attack them just for being friendly. I suppose we'll start there. We'll work on the rest of your bad habits later."

"Come on. Let's go." She tugged at his arm. If she had to, she would drag him over to Gryffindor Tower. A cunning smile played on her lips as she thought of all the fun she would have in dealing with her moody veela.

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**Author's note:** This is a product of me reading far too many veela fics. It's a little silly--all right, a lot silly--but I thought it might be interesting to have Hermione accept the fact that she's Draco's mate straight away and proceed on to dealing with the situation. She just seems too sensible a character to me to spend too much time fighting what she can't change. If I ever get around to writing the next chapter, she will attempt to rein in Draco's natural possessiveness using Ron as a convenient smash test dummy. :D Doesn't that sound like fun? Reviews would be lovely as I'd love to know what you think. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**The Moody Veela Chronicles**

**Chapter Two  
**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine as HP doesn't belong to me.

****

In a daze, Draco followed Granger. He still wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't a dream. A strange dream, but then he had stranger. Like the one where he and Granger were getting married, and the wonder twins had shown up as her bridesmaids. He shuddered, recalling how the two were dressed in dress robes that were a particular garish shade of pink that managed to clash with both Pothead's eyes and Weasel's hair.

But no matter how strange the dream, there was one common thread that always ran through the. In all of his dreams, Granger was desperately in love with him. He stole a peek at the witch fuming ahead of him. No, it didn't appear that she had any affection for him. Apparently this wasn't a dream. His charms simply didn't work on her. He had been told so, of course, the same day he had learned that he was part veela.

Draco sighed, thinking of the day his parents had broken the news to him. He had been so cocky back then, certain that at least one of the schemes he and his father had plotted to use on his mate had to work. Unfortunately they had all failed miserably. His mother had been right. His father hadn't known what he was talking about.

For what must have been the hundredth time, Draco wished that his veela charms would work on Granger the way they worked on just about everyone else. What was the point of being able to charm almost anyone into bed with you if you couldn't charm the one person that actually mattered?

Not that he hadn't tried. He had to make certain that his parents were right about Granger being immune to his charms after all. He had tried all year long to get Granger just to notice him but to no avail. She preferred the company of buffoons. He hung his head sadly and felt sorry for himself.

"Oh stop that," his witch told him without even bothering to turn around. It was as though she had eyes on the back of her head.

"Stop what?"

"Moping. I simply won't have it. What do you have to mope about?"

"Oh, I don't know…maybe about the fact that you hate me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't hate you. I just think you're a nasty, little boy who has never learned how to play nice with others."

"Yeah, because that's so different from hating me."

She stopped in her tracks and spun around to face him. "Your sarcasm is amusing, but in the end, it won't get you what you want. If you want me to like you, you have got to change and become someone I want to spend time with. Right now, it's some times difficult just to tolerate you."

"If I knew how to do that, I would have already done so," he wailed. "But I don't know how to get you to like me." He pouted and scuffed his foot against the stone floor.

"I know, I know," she said consolingly. She patted his cheek. "There, there. That's why you've got to be trained. Don't worry. I'll take care of you." She turned around and once again began leading him towards Gryffindor Tower.

Up and up they climbed. Draco noted that his mate kept a brisk pace even though she was rather small. He frowned as he realized the reason behind it. The moving staircases waited for no one, and if Granger hadn't been so quick, she would have been stranded on several of them. He silently promised himself to have a chat with the staircases on his way down. His mate deserved better treatment than that, and he was going to make certain she got it.

Finally she stopped right in front of a large portrait. "Snickerdoodle," she said in a clear, ringing voice. He stored the password away in his memory as the portrait swung open.

"Don't even think about it," said Granger firmly.

"Think about what?"

"About sneaking back in here to play a prank on us Gryffindors. Trust me, I won't stand for it." She stamped her tiny foot. "If you do, I'll make certain you don't like the consequences."

Draco didn't care much for the tone of her voice. "I'm not your pet, you know, to be ordered around like that," he told her sulkily.

"Pity. If you were more like Crookshanks, then I could trust you to take care of yourself."

He glowered down at her, but she paid him no mind. How dare she compare him unfavorably to that orange nightmare she kept? He wisely kept his mouth shut though. He wasn't about to pick a fight with his mate, not in the heart of Gryffindor territory. He was a Slytherin, after all, and they didn't believe in fighting losing battles.

Or at least, not the current batch of Slytherins. He really couldn't say the same for his parents' generation, more's the pity.

The two of them entered the Gryffindor common room, which was thankfully empty. Instantly Draco grimaced in pain. His eyes felt like they were bleeding out. The Gryffindor common room had to be the worst example of bad taste he had ever seen—it looked as though the Weasleys all got together one weekend and decorated it in red and gold. It was no wonder why Granger was always to be found in the library studying. Anyone who tried to study here probably wound up with a blinding headache. Draco much preferred the cool greens of the Slytherin dungeons; it was much more conducive when it came to revising for exams.

All his thoughts flew out the window as a red-headed gangly freak came creaking down the stairs opposite of them. "Hermione!" exclaimed Weasley, sneering at Draco. "What the bloody hell is the ferret doing here? Come over here! Get away from him before he hurts you!"

Granger bounded over to Weasley and threw her arms around him. "Hello to you too, Ron," she said. "I knew I could depend on you to be waiting for me to return." Draco could have sworn that she was smirking.

Then she kissed the slimy, disgusting git.

Draco saw red. Growling he tore across to where the bumbling idiot was still fondling _his_ mate. He swung at Weasley, knocking the other wizard down to the floor. But Draco wasn't done yet. No, not by a long shot. He raised his foot, determined to smash the ugly git's face into pieces.

Suddenly he was interrupted by his mate sliding in front of him. "Stop that!" Granger scolded. "I can't believe you. You would kick a man when he's down?"

"Best time to kick him," Draco replied sullenly. He didn't like how his mate was defending the Weasel. It made his fingers itch with the urge to choke the bloody bastard.

"You're worse than I thought," Granger noted to herself. She reached out and took his hand, holding it between hers. Somehow just the feel of her skin against his calmed him down and soothed his wounded pride. "You should know that—"

Whatever Granger was about to say, however, was interrupted by Weasley getting back to his feet. "You bloody tosser," he swore. "Think you've got the best of me? Well just wait till you see what I'm going to do you. Not even your mother will recognize you once I'm done." The fuming wizard drew his wand and pointed it straight at Draco.

"Oh for Merlin's sake." Hermione dropped Draco's hand in order to whirl around and confront Weasley. "_Expelliarmus!_" Weasley's wand flew to her, and she caught it neatly. "You're not going to do anything to Malfoy, Ron."

"Hermione!" cried the Weasel. "Why the hell are you taking his side? In case you didn't notice, he was the one who attacked me! He's the enemy!" Weasley pointed fiercely at Draco.

Yet Granger didn't even bat an eye at Weasley's theatrics. If anything, she looked to be a little bit bored. "Because it's not his fault," she replied in a slow drawl.

"Oh right. How could I have forgotten that? Malfoy doesn't have control of his facilities, and so he can't be blamed if his fist accidentally smashes into my face." Weasley's face was all scrunched up in rage, and he was turning an ugly shade of red. It clashed something awful with the purple bruise forming around his right eye. Draco rolled back on his heels and settled in to enjoy the scene. Weasley's complaints were music to his ears.

"Exactly. So glad you understand, Ron. You provoked him, so you're the one to blame."

Weasley's jaw hit the floor. He swallowed several times before speaking again. "_I_ provoked him? Just how did I do that! All I did was try to protect you from him."

Granger tilted her head to the side as she considered her friend's words. "Fair enough, I suppose. I guess it's better to say that I provoked Malfoy by hugging you and then letting you take the brunt of it. So sorry."

Weasley's right eye began to twitch. "Oi. _You _provoked _him _by hugging _me_? Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me here?"

"Really?" Then Granger smacked her fist in the palm of her hand. "Oh! That's right! I did forget to tell you something."

Both wizards looked at her askance, neither of them believing her innocent act. To her credit, she remained completely nonchalant in the face of their incredulous stares.

"So what is it you forgot to tell me?" Weasley prodded her.

"You know how you and Harry have been worried since we've been back about why Malfoy is always staring at me?"

"Yeah," said Weasley. "I also remembered how you told us how you can take care of yourself and how we better leave the matter alone." His eyes lit up in anticipation. "Don't tell me you've seen the error of your ways? And that you're going to let us make the Malfoy problem go away?"

Draco could only roll his eyes at the other wizard's stupidity. The answer to that should be obvious to anyone with a brain. If Granger was going to allow her goons to get rid of him, then she would have never interfered with Weasley's retaliation not five minutes ago.

It was more proof that Weasley didn't have even a functioning brain stem.

Meanwhile Granger had just about lost her patience with her slow friend. She stamped her foot indignantly. "Honestly! Of course not!" She waved Weasley's wand under his nose. "If I was going to let you lay a hand on Malfoy, I wouldn't have bothered to disarm you in the first place."

Weasley scuffed his shoe against the floor. "You could've just been stopping me because you were worried about the carpet."

The only response the fool received was a blistering glare.

"Or maybe to tell me to be more careful so I won't get caught hexing him?" Weasley tried again.

"Honestly. There are times I don't know why I even bother. Do you ever think before speaking?"

"Granger, this is Weasley we're speaking of. There's no evidence that he thinks at all."

She glowered at him, and he was happy. She had been paying too much attention to her idiot friend and not enough attention to him. "Malfoy, be quiet!" she told him. She then snapped her head to look at Weasley. "That goes double for you. If you have nothing intelligent to say, then it's best you not speak at all. So shut up and listen to what I have to say."

Granger took a deep breath before continuing. "In any event, you and Harry were completely wrong about Malfoy. That's why I told you to leave him alone. It wasn't as though he was planning to do anything to me. He couldn't do anything to hurt me if he tried, much less kill me." She cocked her head to one side. "Well at least not the way you're thinking."

Draco smirked in glee. He had never imagined that Granger could be such a wicked minx. But he held his tongue, even though he desperately wanted to add a lascivious comment of his own.

"But to make a long story short, he's"—Granger pointed a dainty finger at Draco—"a part veela, and I am his mate."

"What?"

"Why do I even bother?" Granger murmured. "I thought I was perfectly clear. What part didn't you understand?"

"Um…all of it?" Weasley winced as though expecting Granger to explode at him.

But that explosion never came, much to Draco's disappointment. Granger simply sighed and shook her head from side to side. "Right. Of course, all of it. It's not as though you bother paying attention in any of our classes. Well then, part veelas share many of the traits of full veelas, including their coloring, their charms, and their unearthly attractiveness. Unfortunately for them this also means that they have mates, whom they need in order to survive. Should a part veela be rejected by his mate, he will most certainly die of a broken heart."

"All right," said Weasley. "Is that why you told me not to bother with Malfoy? Because he's going to die anyway?"

That earned him an explosion from Granger. "What ever gave you that idea?" she raged.

"Well you did say you were his mate and that he can't live without you. Makes it pretty obvious, I think."

"I fail to see how—" She stopped in the middle of her sentence. Draco could feel the heat emanating from her as her temper reached new levels. "Wait a minute. You think I'm just going to reject him and leave him to die. How could you even think that I could be so cold, so cruel, so—argh!" Granger raised her hand to slap Weasley in the face.

Quick as a snake, Draco interceded, catching hold of her arm before he knew just what he was doing. "Don't," he said in a low, intense voice. He stared at her intently, his eyes practically boring holes into hers.

"You don't want me to slap Ron?" she asked. Draco blushed but nodded his head. He could see the wheels turning in Granger's head. "I see. Something else for me to look in to later." She tugged her arm away from his grip and lowered it. Then she took a step closer to Draco and tightly grasped his hand with hers.

"I'm so sorry to disappoint you, but leaving Malfoy to die never crossed my mind. I'm not that sort of witch," she told Weasley firmly. She coolly ignored his sputterings. "You'll just have to get used to the idea."

"But Hermione! He's been dead awful to you all these years…and you're just going to forget it like that?" The Gryffindor wizard snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. It would take dozens of _Obliviates _for me to forget everything he's done and said. But at the same time, I'm not going to blame him for his awful behavior. That's because some part of him realized his attraction to me and he didn't know how to deal with it since his parents taught him that he should have nothing to do with my kind. I won't hold that against him. His parents are another matter, however." The zeal in her voice made Draco worry about introducing his mate to his parents. He would have to put that off for as long as possible.

"So you're happy about being doomed to be with the prat?"

"I am certainly not going to bemoan my fate. What good would that do? No, what I'm going to do is to teach Draco how to be a better person."

"Do you think that's possible?" asked Weasley. "He is a Malfoy after all."

"Frankly there are times when I have my doubts," Granger replied.

"I can hear you, you know," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"I know that. And don't grind your teeth together like that. It's not good for them," she told him bossily.

"Oh no!" Weasley gasped in horror. Slowly he was turning as pale as a sheet. "He's your new project, isn't he?"

"Is it that obvious?" said Granger with a sassy toss of her head. "Yes, he's my new project. I'll be spending the rest of my life with him, after all. I had better make sure he's someone I like." Draco opened his mouth to protest but the saucy wench stepped on his foot before he could get a single syllable out. He glowered down at her head. She squeezed his hand. Once again he was infused with a feeling of contentment, happy just to have his mate by his side.

It was really sort of disconcerting how she could distract him like that.

"Okay then. It looks like you've made up your mind. Better him than me. I wish you the best of luck with that." Weasley started to sneak away.

"And where do you think you're going, Ron Weasley?"

"Upstairs? So you can lay down the rules for him in private?"

"Not so fast. You're going to help me."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Veelas are infamous for being possessive. That's why Draco struck you when I hugged and kissed you."

"Oh no." Draco hadn't thought it possible, but Weasley became even paler.

"Oh yes. I've volunteered you to help me help Malfoy rein in his possessiveness. He has to learn how to control himself when I'm around my male friends."

Weasley began shaking uncontrollably. "Help you help him?" he squeaked. "I don't suppose I have a choice in the matter?"

"Does the phrase 'communist choice' mean anything to you?"

"So I do have a choice?" Hope sprung up in Weasley's eyes.

"Yes. You can either help me with Malfoy, or you can help me with Malfoy. Which will it be?"

It took a minute before Weasley digested the proposition before him. "Hey! They're both the—"

"Excellent. I knew you would say yes," Granger interrupted him. "Now we just have to see what level of contact between you and me that Malfoy can stand. Once we have that determined, we can gradually build up his tolerance. Sounds easy, doesn't it?"

"Easy for you to say," Weasley returned. "Would it do any good to remind you that you have two best friends? Why don't you ask Harry?"

"Because Harry's more powerful magically, and so Malfoy would see him as more of a threat," she answered matter-of-factly. "Besides you _owe _me." The last was accompanied by a steely glare.

"I thought you said you'd forgiven me for acting like a prat!"

"Of course I've forgiven you, Ron!" Impulsively—or so it seemed—she leapt up and hugged Weasley.

A second later he was on the floor once more.

"That seems to be too much contact as well," Granger noted in a clinical voice. With one arm, she held Draco back from attacking the prone wizard. "Get up, Ron. Let's try just holding hands."

"I have a better idea," Weasley groaned. "Why don't we pretend we held hands and that this is what happened?"

"Do you still feel like breaking Ron's face?" Granger asked Draco in a stage whisper.

"It would be my pleasure," he replied.

"Hear that, Ron?" she called out. "If you don't get out, I'll stop holding Malfoy back."

Weasley groaned again. "You're cruel, you do know that, right?" he asked, pulling himself up.

Granger narrowed her eyes at him. "Aren't you lucky? Just think what I would do to you if we weren't friends? Now look sharp. Let's try holding hands." She spared a glance for Draco. "And this time, try not to hit him, okay?" she all but ordered him.

She reached out to take Weasley's hand. A moment later Weasley was sprawled out on the ground yet again. "All right. We'll just have to step it down some more," said Granger. "Get up, Ron."

This continued for the better part of the next hour. Granger would initiate contact with Weasley, and Draco would automatically attack the other male. She seemed to tolerate his reaction the first few times, but soon Granger's exhortations for him to control his instincts grew more strident. He realized that his witch was serious. So Draco began to try in earnest not to hit the annoying bastard. It was a truly difficult thing to do—often Draco found that his fist started to twitch when Weasley even got close to his mate—but he tried. Finally Draco achieved success by not hitting Weasley when the other wizard tapped Granger on the shoulder.

Granger squealed happily. "Excellent!" she said. She bounced up and down. "That's our baseline. With daily sessions to increase Malfoy's tolerance levels, his possessiveness will be fixed in no time!"

"Wait a minute! Did I hear you say daily sessions?" Weasley's voice cracked in fear.

"Yes, that's the only way to make sure he keeps moving forward," replied Granger. "I'm so happy you agreed to help out, Ron. I do want to be able to hug my male friends without Malfoy attacking them."

"Don't mention it," Weasley said dryly.

"Although…." There was something to Granger's tone that made both Draco and Weasley look at her in anticipation. "Aren't veelas supposed to be protective of their mates as well?"

"They are," Draco answered.

"So that would translate into your not liking when my friends take advantage of me because they haven't done their homework yet, right?" A wicked gleam appeared in her eyes. If Draco didn't know better, he would say that Granger was hoping he would answer in the affirmative.

"Um…I guess so?"

"You don't know so?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "It's not as though Weasley even mentioned getting help with that Potions essay or anything tonight. So I'm not certain. You might be right though."

"I see. Let's test that then. Ron! Ask me to let you copy my essay!" Now Draco was positive. He didn't know what Weasley had done to her in the past, but it was obvious that she was hoping Draco would have a reaction. He made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

Oh wait. It was probably too late for that. He tossed that mental note aside.

Weasley scoffed. "I'm done for the evening," he said. "I've had quite enough. I'm not going to be foolish enough to ask in front of him to copy your essay. I'll do that behind his back."

Draco growled. He didn't like the idea of Potter and Weasley taking advantage of his mate when he wasn't around. Though he thought he was being quiet, his reaction didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh! It does seem like Malfoy won't like that!" Granger said excitedly. She latched on to his arm. "That's settled then. You'll just have to study with me every night." She sent a wicked grin Weasley's way. "Do feel free to ask for help tomorrow night. Malfoy and I will be in the library together, studying."

"Great. Just great." Weasley's shoulders slumped forward, and a defeated aura surrounded him as he trudged back up the stairs.

Granger rubbed her hands together excitedly. "This is a perfect start," she announced to Draco. "Well maybe not perfect perfect. That would entail you throwing yourself at my feet and begging for mercy. But this will do. This will do." She looked sharply at him. "By the way, I expect you to meet me outside tomorrow to escort me to breakfast. Don't forget to offer to carry my books. Good night then. You know the way out."

With that, she left him. For one long minute, he looked up the stairs wondering. Then he shook his head. It wasn't worth it. He didn't want to provoke her anger when it seemed that she was willing to accept him. That was so much more than he had been hoping for.

Besides he had some moving staircases to talk to. With any luck, they'd behave themselves when he walked her to breakfast tomorrow morning, thereby earning him his first snog from her.

It wasn't likely but a moody veela could dream.

****

**Author's note: **And more silliness abounds. Please review and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Moody Veela Chronicles**

**Chapter Three  
**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine as HP doesn't belong to me.

****

Hermione bounded down the stairs to the common room the next morning, her bag slung over her shoulder. It was going to be a wonderful day, she just knew it. She had slept like a baby the night before, and that always boded well for the day after.

"Good morning, Hermione," called out Harry as she entered the common room. "You look well," he said slowly. He cast a glance to his side. "Unlike someone else I could mention."

"Have I ever mentioned how annoying you can be?" Ron bit out. He pointedly ignored his female best friend in favor of poking at his black eye with his wand. "I still don't think we need to go to the hospital wing. I can take care of this myself."

Harry and Hermione both winced. "Don't do that, mate," Harry said quickly. "Healing charms can be complicated."

"What? You think I can't do it?" Ron looked indignantly at Harry.

Hermione sighed. "Here. There's no need to fight. Let me handle it," she said. She crossed the room, taking out her wand as she went. She stopped in front of her friend and dumped her bag on the floor. In truth, she felt a little bad about the beating Ron had taken last night. She had been irritated with him for awhile now, and she had taken that out on him by using him as a convenient smash test dummy for Malfoy.

But even though a small part of her felt guilty, there was a bigger part of her that felt vindicated. She had wasted so much time on that boy, hoping that he would finally notice her. It was sad really. She had been able to peg Malfoy as a part veela early third year. It had taken her so much longer to figure out that she simply wasn't pretty enough to catch Ron's eye. Not that he had helped matters at all. The fit he threw after the Yule Ball had her convinced for ages that he fancied her.

Unfortunately the truth wasn't that simple. In the end, she had given up pining for Ron, realizing it was a lost cause. There were times that she still wanted to scream at the stupid boy and demand an answer as to why he chased after other witches while continuing to make her think that he fancied her. She never did, of course, as she wanted to keep her dignity.

That was why it had been so satisfying to see Ron take the brunt of Malfoy's anger. She was venting her rage vicariously through the Slytherin wizard. It wasn't fair of her though. She should have swallowed her pride and confronted Ron herself about the whole matter instead of unleashing Malfoy on him. But she couldn't change the past, so the best apology she could offer was to heal him.

A few waves of her wand later, and Ron was looking like his normal self. "All better?" asked Hermione.

He refused to meet her eyes. "Yeah. For now, I guess."

"Good."

"Wait a minute," said Harry. He looked from Hermione to Ron and then back to Hermione again. "All right. Spill."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Have I ever mentioned that you really need to expand your vocabulary? Not to mention the fact that you could work on your syntax as well."

"Nice try, but you're not going to distract me with fancy words." There was steel hidden beneath Harry's words. "Something's up between the two of you, and I intend to find out just what that is."

Now that caused Hermione to roll her eyes. "Good luck with that," she muttered under her breath. Hermione picked up her bag. She glanced over at the portrait hole, then sighed. It was much too far away for her to make a discreet escape from the conversation, and she wasn't so desperate as to just bolt out. At least not yet.

"Don't even think about it," said Harry. Hermione softly swore under her breath, as she cursed her best friend. Sometimes it was uncanny how observant Harry could be when he put his mind to it. "And just to let you know—I don't need luck. That's the benefit of having two best friends, you know. I can always play one off of the other."

"Ah. The classic prisoner's dilemma. Very good. Tell me, when are you moving to the Slytherin dorms?"

"Funny. That's what I was going to ask you," said Ron.

"Aha! A clue!" Harry exclaimed.

"Lovely. You just had to say that, didn't you, Ron? Now we'll never get down for breakfast because Harry here thinks he has a mystery to solve."

A look of horror dawned on Ron's face. "No breakfast?" he gasped. "But that's…that's…."

She could see where this was going. Harry was going to find out about her and Malfoy one way or another. Since she would prefer to tell him herself, she decided to do so now before Ron blurted it out. "You see, Ron had a bit of a run in with Malfoy last night. It was completely my fault," she said in a rush, seeing Harry automatically start to reach for his wand. "Really, it was. Ron will back me up on that."

"Yeah, she's telling the truth. I know it's hard to believe," said Ron.

"Is that so?" The black-haired wizard narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "That's strange. Given your lecture at the start of the year about how you can take care of yourself, I rather thought you wouldn't hide behind Ron from Malfoy."

"I didn't." She took a deep breath before plowing forward. "To make a long story short, Malfoy is a part veela, I'm his mate, and he didn't like it very much when I hugged Ron."

"And kissed me on the cheek," Ron added. "Really, I think that was what put him over the edge."

"Oh." Harry's forehead wrinkled as he thought through what his best friends had said. "So you purposefully provoked Malfoy into attacking Ron?" he asked, looking as though he were disappointed in Hermione.

She chewed her lower lip. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. It was for a good cause though. You see, veelas are known for being very possessive of their mates and—"

Harry held up a hand, effectively ending her explanation. "Save it, Hermione. I don't want to hear it." Though he didn't say so, Hermione could tell that he had expected better from her.

She hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Then it hit her. She snapped her head back up. "Wait. You're not upset that Malfoy and I are—"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Upset? No. More like expecting it. He always seemed rather obsessed with you, and this explains why rather neatly. Better you than me really."

That was when Ron caught up to their conversation. "You knew?" he cried accusingly at Harry.

"I didn't know any specifics, but I knew that there was something between Hermione and Malfoy. And I didn't really think Malfoy would hurt Hermione. Did you?" Ron nodded his head vigorously. "Oh," said Harry. "Why did you think that?"

"Hello? This is Malfoy we're talking about. He's been the bane of our existence for the last six years now?"

"Maybe the bane of your existence, but not mine," said Harry with a smirk on his face. "But more to the point—did you forget how he didn't do a thing to Hermione after she slapped him? I thought for sure he was going to hex her, but he just walked away. And then at the World Cup. He wasn't warning you or me, you know."

"So if you thought that, then why did you agree with Ron that Malfoy must be up to something?" asked Hermione. "I could have sworn the both of you were serious."

"Sometimes, Hermione," said Harry sagely, "it's easier to go along with whatever madcap scheme Ron has planned rather than try to convince him that it's doomed to failure."

She thought about that. It made sense. Sometimes Harry really surprised her with how wise he could be. "That's true enough," she said. "He really isn't that good at listening to advice, is he?"

"No, he isn't," agreed Harry pleasantly. "Frankly he's not good at listening at all."

"Hey! Stop talking about me behind my back like that!"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry. "We're hardly talking about you behind your back. You can hear us perfectly fine, you know."

Ron pouted. "Doesn't matter. Sometimes you and Harry get on the same wavelength and leave me behind. That's just as bad."

"It's not our fault you're slow," said Harry.

"Oi. What is this? Insult Ron week?"

"Ah, if it's take a shot at Weasel week, then by all means, count me in," drawled a familiar voice. The three friends whipped their heads around to see Draco Malfoy standing in the entrance of the common room.

Hermione glared at him. "I thought I told you to wait outside," she said through gritted teeth.

"I got bored waiting," said Malfoy smoothly. "So I thought I might as well come in and see what's taking you so long. I should have known you were entertaining these fools." He sneered at the Gryffindor wizards.

Hermione stomped over to him. "You are impossible. Is it so hard to be nice to my friends?"

"Yes."

"Don't blame him," Harry interjected. "He's just feeling jealous, that's all. You were making him wait so you could spend time talking to us, and that's the sort of thing to set even a normal bloke's teeth on edge. It must be much worse for him."

Evidently Harry was already used to the idea of her being Malfoy's mate, which led her to believe that he hadn't been entirely honest with her earlier. Hermione filed that information away for later. "That doesn't matter. I simply won't tolerate such behavior. I know Malfoy can be better than that, and I expect more from him."

"I see," said Harry. "So he's your new project? Better him than me."

"That's what I said," agreed Ron.

"Oh hush! Let's not start that again!" She huffed and crossed her arms. She loved her friends but sometimes they could be such idiots. They never did appreciate her efforts in helping them. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered with that; letting them fail a class or three might actually be good for them.

"Not to mention that you fools couldn't be more wrong if you tried," Malfoy said. "I'm no one's project to work on." He sneered at her friends, and she didn't bother to correct him. They were being rather bothersome at the moment.

Then he yanked at her bag, nearly dislodging it from her grip.

There was no way she was going to let that go.

"Stop that!" she said as she spun away from his grasp. She glared daggers at him. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she spat out.

"Is it me, or did it suddenly get cold, very cold in here?" Ron asked.

"Be quiet, Ron. Just be quiet and enjoy the show," Harry muttered.

Meanwhile Malfoy was looking in disbelief at Hermione. "I was going to carry your bag for you, before you decided throw a tantrum about it." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin! A bloke tries to be a gentleman and look what sort of thanks he gets!"

She sniffed in disdain. "You were trying to be a gentleman? Honestly? That's the best you can do?"

Malfoy threw his hands in the air. "Oh I'm sorry. I guess I must have been hearing things last night when you all but ordered me to carry your books today!"

"You're an absolute idiot. I never said such a thing!"

"You did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too! And you know it!" He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes and started pouting. He was a very handsome sight, but that only served to further annoy her.

"I did not," she said. She stamped her foot for emphasis. "What I said—since evidently you weren't listening very carefully to me which is going to be _something else_ we'll have to work on—what I said was that you should offer to carry my books for me today." She panted, not having paused for breath during that rant.

"But that's what I did!"

"No you didn't! You just tried to snatch them away!"

"Semantics," he scoffed.

Hermione wagged a finger at him. "No. Not semantics. Style," she spat out. "Asking before taking my bag would have been charming. Just trying to yank it way however?" She shook her head from side to side. "It's just more proof that you don't know how to treat a witch right."

"Touché," said Harry in an approving tone of voice.

"More to the point, who would have ever thought that our Hermione would ever take Malfoy to task for his lack of style," noted Ron.

"Certainly not me," agreed Harry.

"Hush you two," Hermione commanded them.

"Hushing," her friends chorused.

"Good." She could see that Malfoy's fingers were trembling. It was probably best not to push him too far—at least not until she got the chance to help him improve when it came to reining in his proclivities. She gave him a minute to calm down before pressing her point once more. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Malfoy glared daggers at her.

She rolled her eyes. He was certainly going to be a challenge. "Well then, if you don't have anything to say, I expect I had best be on my way. I haven't got all day, you know."

A shudder ran through his frame, and Hermione could practically see Malfoy arguing with himself. He groaned aloud. "Fine then. May I please carry your bag for you?"

"Excellent." She was making progress with him already.

Then he lunged for her bag once more. She promptly dodged right, causing him to become off balanced and fall.

"What the—? Is this some sort of twisted game to you?" he shouted. He looked up balefully at her while sprawled upon the floor.

"Hardly. But I don't believe that I ever gave you permission to actually take my bag."

"I need permission?" He gaped at her.

"That was what you were asking for, wasn't it?" she replied calmly.

"But that was just a formality!"

"Just a formality?" She narrowed her eyes at him, and her demeanor grew cold. She tossed her head. "Are you trying to say that your asking for my permission was just a formality, and that you were going to do whatever you wanted regardless of my wishes?" she spat out, her tone becoming more strident with every word.

"Oh. Doesn't look good for Malfoy, now does it?" Ron said as an aside to Harry.

"No, it doesn't," agreed Harry. "That's two for her so far, none for him."

"But that's just to be expected," said Ron.

Hermione ignored her friends in favor of watching Malfoy, who had got up off the floor while Harry and Ron had been blathering. She tapped her foot as she waited impatiently for an apology from him. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

His eyes gleamed silver in response to her jibe. For a split second, she thought she had pushed him too far, that he was going to lose it. But much to her surprise, Malfoy didn't explode. Instead his shoulders dropped, and he adopted a pitiful expression. "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" he cried.

Great. That was just what she needed to make this morning complete. A broody, depressed veela on the verge of tears. She mentally chided herself for being so hard on him. She has never intended to make him cry. She had simply wanted him to show some manners. She was positive that his parents must have introduced him to the concept.

Hermione sighed aloud. The way Draco was sniffling was downright pathetic. It was past time for her to calm her down. "There, there," she said reassuring. She approached him while searching through her pockets for a handkerchief. A horrid thought flashed through her mind—she was becoming more like her mother every day. Pushing that reflection aside, she located her handkerchief and drew it out with a flourish.

"Don't worry," she said. "Everything's going to be all right. Honestly you've already made so much progress." She stood on her tiptoes so she could wipe away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

That was when his arms closed around her, and his lips crashed down on to hers. She gasped in surprise, and he took immediate advantage, plundering her mouth with his tongue. Somehow she couldn't quite find it in her to push him away the way she knew she should. She closed her eyes and leaned in to the kiss, enjoying the warmth that was spreading throughout all her tingling nerves. She knew she might regret it later, and so she hoped the moment would never end.

"All right," said Harry in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "That's enough, you two. Ron's bound to come to any moment now, and I refuse to face the inevitable tantrum alone."

Just like that the spell was broken. Hermione pushed away from Malfoy and turned around to face her friends. Harry was merely shaking his head at her. As for Ron—he had fainted dead away.

A soft snicker sounded from behind her. "Oh my. I guess I should have expected Weasley to faint like a girl because all the blood rushing to his head. Aren't you glad you're not with him?" Malfoy asked.

She didn't have to look at the arrogant prick behind her to know that he was smirking. Hermione elbowed him sharply.

"What? Just what did I say that wasn't true?"

She rolled her eyes. "It was the 'like a girl' remark you made. No witch I know would pass out for such a reason." She wrinkled her nose. She hated to admit it but Malfoy was right when it came to his other remark. Right now she was glad that she wasn't with Ron.

With one arm, he drew her closer to him. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how neatly she fit under him, the top of her head an inch beneath his chin. His breath tickled into her ear. "And what about the rest of it?" he asked silkily.

Fortunately she was spared having to answer him by Ron coming to. The lanky wizard lurched on to his feet as the other three occupants of the room watched him carefully. He blinked his eyes and frowned. "Oi Harry," said Ron. "I had the most awful dream. I dreamt that Hermione was—"

"It wasn't a dream, Ron," said Harry flatly.

"No, I suppose not. More like a nightmare…." Suddenly the haze covering Ron's eyes cleared. "Wait a second. That means…." He began fumbling in his robes for his wand.

"Looking for this?" asked Harry. He twirled Ron's wand around on his fingers. He glanced in Hermione's direction. "I took it off him after he hit the ground," he explained.

"Thanks," she said weakly. "I owe you one."

Harry grinned, and she was struck by just how much he resembled a shark at that moment. "Frankly, Hermione, both you and Malfoy do."

"No we don't," argued Malfoy. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my witch— "

Hermione stepped back, trampling over Malfoy's foot.

"Ow!" He swore fluently, turning the air blue with his curses. "Why the hell did you do that for, you crazy—"

She stepped on him again. This time she ground her heel against the top of his foot.

Harry sighed. "As much fun as it is to watch the two of you wrestle with one another—"

A thud sounded as Ron fainted again.

"Poor choice of words there," Harry noted clinically. "In any case, as I was going to suggest that you might have more success if you explain to Malfoy how you don't like being treated like a possession or like you can't take care of yourself, Hermione."

"But wait a minute! She didn't complain about you taking Ron's wand away from him!" Draco protested.

"That's because I wasn't doing it to protect her. I was just trying to prevent a scene," Harry explained. "Much good that did," he muttered.

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse us, we will get going," said Hermione. "Before Ron wakes up again. I really don't feel like starting my day with an argument."

"And you weren't arguing with Malfoy a minute ago?"

She rolled her eyes. "That wasn't arguing. That was my attempt at teaching Malfoy how to be a better.…" She paused. She wasn't certain just how to classify their relationship. She knew that she was stuck with him; if she ever left him, then his death would be on her hands and that wasn't something that she was willing to live with. However, it wasn't as though they were officially anything though. "Well it was my attempt at teaching Malfoy how to be a better wizard," she finally said.

"I see." Harry made a shooing motion with his hands. "Well go on then. Get going before sleeping beauty here wakes up again."

"All right," said Hermione. She turned around, coming face to face with Draco. "Let's go," she told him.

He frowned, then glanced at her shoulder.

"Here." She handed over her bag to him. Hermione didn't want to argue about that any further. It would be a waste of breath better spent explaining to him how she wanted to be treated. The two of them walked out of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione did her best to ignore the tingly feeling she got when his hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side. She focused her mind and planned her arguments about how a modern witch should be treated.

All those thoughts flew out of her mind when she saw the moving staircases.

"That's odd," she said. She tilted her head to look at them again. They were all lined up in a row, not a single one of them moving. She had never seen anything like that before.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. There was no point in questioning her luck. She continued on down the stairs, not having to break stride once because one of them felt like moving. She quite liked it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had spooked the staircases. Which was silly really because what did magical staircases have to fear? They had no problems at all, unlike her who still had Malfoy to deal with. She twisted her nose, not liking how pleased he was with himself.

It was time to take him down a notch or two.

"All right then," she said as the reached the bottom of the staircases. She held out her hand for her bag, which he gave to her begrudgingly. "Here's where we split up."

"You're not going to breakfast?" He regarded her sternly, and she got the feeling that he was on the verge of lecturing her on how she should eat more.

Which was such a ridiculous idea. She ate more than most witches she knew, having never been the sort to engage in fad diets.

"Don't be silly," she told him. "I have every intention of eating breakfast. But I don't plan on entering the Great Hall with you." She shuddered. "Just the thought of how everyone would react…I'd be dodging hexes from your housemates for the rest of the week, if we did that."

"They wouldn't dare hex you. Not if they know what's good for them." A dark and stormy look crossed his face. She became even more determined not to cause a scene at breakfast for she had no doubt that Malfoy would only be too eager to make it worse by jumping into the fray, wand out.

"Let me remind you once again I can take care of myself," she told him stridently. She held up a hand to forestall his protests. "But honestly! I don't feel up to dealing with that sort of drama, particularly not when our N.E.W.T.s are only a few months away."

"But that's not fair! Your friends know!" he whined.

"That's because they know how to behave themselves." Hermione walked on ahead of Draco, who was pouting vigorously to little effect.

"So you mean you intend to ignore me in public?" he continued to complain as he trailed after her. "Because you're ashamed of me?"

"That's not it at all."

"That's certainly what it sounded like." His voice took on a pathetic tone to it.

She sighed and turned around to face him. That was a mistake. Malfoy's shoulders were drooping and his head was hung low, and his posture spoke volumes about how unhappy he was at the mere thought that she was ashamed of him. Hermione bit her lip. Malfoy changed moods so quickly. It was rather exhausting.

"I'm not ashamed of you," she repeated firmly. "I simply don't want to make it public that you and I are…." She fumbled about for the appropriate word.

"Together?" he suggested.

"Yes, well it's a bit more than that, isn't it?"

He beamed at her.

She blinked rapidly. "Honestly, Malfoy, it can't be good for you to be so sad one minute and absolutely jubilant the next," she muttered.

"Can't help it," he told her, a lazy smirk covering his face. He reached out an arm and drew her to his side. He nuzzled her hair as they started to amble along. "It's your fault, really. I'll be much better once you're ready to announce to the world that you're mine."

Hermione didn't exactly like his choice of words but she thought it was best to leave it be for now. And not because it was distracting how comfortable it was to be so close to him. She was definitely going to add it to her list of improvements he had to make in his personality, she decided as she snuggled closer to him. "Yes, well…I'll be willing to do that once we figure out a way to break it to your housemates gently."

"They won't be a problem," he assured her.

"And your parents," she added.

"They already know."

That took her aback. "They do?"

"Yes."

"And they're fine with it?"

He tilted his head to one side as he considered her question. "Well they're both resigned to it. I think my father's actually more comfortable with the idea than my mother. She thought that I was doomed, you see, that you would never accept me." He pumped his fist in the air. "Just wait until I tell her how wrong she was."

Seeing how Malfoy had spent the last couple of months stalking her very poorly, she had to agree with his mother's assessment. But Hermione bit her tongue and kept that thought to herself. She didn't want to start another argument—no wait, they hadn't argued at all—another debate with Malfoy this morning. "That's lovely. One less thing to worry about," she said. "So once we can ensure that your—"

"They won't be a problem," he insisted.

That earned him another roll of her eyes. He was stubborn beyond all belief. "You are impossible," she said, slowly enunciating each word.

"Thank you. I do try. It keeps things interesting, don't you think? And here we are."

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco had pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and ushered her through them while still glued to her side.

****

**Author's note:** Please review. I would love to know what you think. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**The Moody Veela Chronicles**

**Chapter Four**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine as HP doesn't belong to me.

****

There were times when Pansy Parkinson wished she had been sorted into Hufflepuff— generally when she had been dealing with Slytherin wizards for too long. There were only two types of Slytherin males. Those who were entirely too clever for their own good and those who were not. Crabbe and Goyle clearly belonged in the latter category; a witch could feel her brain cells dying off when trapped in conversation with either of them.

At the opposite end of the spectrum were the rest of the wizards in her year. Draco, Theo, and Blaise were all disgustingly clever. And what was worse, they shared the same biting wit. It was enough to make any sane witch long for the relatively normal wizards who inhabited Hufflepuff.

Pansy grimaced, remembering the time she had voiced that thought in the presence of Draco and Theo. The two of them had promptly rushed her to the hospital wing in a mad panic, insisting that there was something wrong with her, which led to Madam Pomfrey keeping her there overnight for observation. It was just so very sad how her boys were all such drama queens.

But she had learned from her mistake and had watched her tongue most assiduously when around them ever since that incident. True she would occasionally play with the idea of marching over to wherever the Sorting Hat was stored and insisting on being resorted into Hufflepuff, like last month when the Slytherin Quidditch team had lost to Gryffindor. She never actually went through with that idea as that would have been unacceptable to her parents. It was painful just to think of what their reactions would be to that news. Pansy could almost hear her mother screeching about how she was doomed to a life of poverty for everyone knew that to marry well one had to marry a Slytherin.

Needless to say, Pansy had long given up any hope she had on prying her mum's value system out of the dark ages.

But thankfully she was usually able to deal with her boys. They weren't all that bad. Draco and Blaise were usually willing to help her with schoolwork—so long as she didn't mind the playful insults they'd toss her way—while Goyle was absolute tops when it came to fetching things for her.

Of course, there were times when her patience was tested, such as now. It didn't bode well when the wizards were this obnoxious this early. An uneasy feeling settled over her as Theo and Blaise continued to prattle on about some nonsense while Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their faces.

Crabbe reached over and speared a sausage off of her plate. Without pausing for breath, he crammed it into his mouth.

Pansy sighed. She didn't know why she even bothered with breakfast when Crabbe and Goyle took the seats across from her. The sight of them eating inevitably ruined her appetite. "Go ahead, help yourself," she said. She pushed her plate forward. "Not that I need to tell you that, it seems," she added under her breath.

That statement earned her the attention of the other males sitting nearby. "Don't tell me that you're on a diet again," drawled Blaise. "Darling, you must remember how miserable you were the last time. And you lost what? All of a pound?" He started to giggle, something that was very unattractive in a man.

Without blinking an eye, Pansy twirled her fork up and promptly stabbed the idiot sitting next to her. Alas Blaise somehow managed to dodge—his reaction time had improved ever since he had become a Chaser for Slytherin.

"Oh! Looks like someone is feeling grouchy today," said Theo.

Pansy closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. Then she turned to her friend and asked, "Do you have to be impossible at breakfast too, Theo?"

He gazed back innocently at her. "Excuse me?"

It was enough to make any witch scream. But years of having to deal with her boys had taught her that was exactly the reaction they were hoping for. "Don't try that act with me, Nott," she said in a no nonsense tone of voice. "I've known you since we were three. You can't pull one over on me. I know perfectly well that you know that I was referring to the fact that you were joining forces with Blaise to pick on me at breakfast." She spared a glare for Crabbe across the table. "And if I thought that he"—she waved a hand at Vince—"was capable of planning ahead, I would accuse him on being in on your scheme too."

"Whatever makes you say that?" Somehow Theo managed to look more innocent than ever.

Pansy simply glowered at him in response.

"I believe she was referring to your comment about her being grumpy this morning," Blaise interjected.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Merlin! Not everything is about you, Pansy. I was referring to Granger. She looks livid that Draco is practically glued to her side."

That earned him a bop on the head from Pansy, which landed with a gratifying thud. "You idiot! You should have said so right away!"

"My apologies. I thought that you were more observant than that." Theo rubbed his head and winced. "Everyone else seems to have noticed."

Pansy looked around and then bit her tongue so she wouldn't swear. Unfortunately it appeared as though that prat was right. Everyone else had noticed. The usual buzz of conversation had faded away, and all eyes were glued on Draco and Granger, who were standing side by side near the door. They were too far away for Pansy to hear what was being said, but it didn't look as though Granger was very happy with Draco.

Pansy groaned and banged her head against the table. "I knew I shouldn't have come to breakfast this morning," she muttered to herself. "This can't end well."

"Shouldn't you have more faith in your best friend?" Theo chided her mildly.

She lifted up her head to shoot him a glare of doom. "Unfortunately I _know _Draco." Which was true. She had known Theo ever since she was three, but she had known Draco for even longer than that. He had stayed for a couple weeks with her family after the first time You-Know-Who was defeated. Lucius Malfoy was occupied with staying out of Azkaban while Narcissa was simply beside herself given the straits her husband and her older sister were in. Neither of the Malfoys had been able to really take care of Draco during that difficult time, and so Pansy's mother had wound up volunteering to step in. And the rest, as they say, was history. She and Draco had been the closest of friends ever since.

That was despite the fact that one of her first memories was of him pulling the ribbons out of her hair. Even as a toddler, Draco was a prat.

He could be dreadfully annoying at times, but he had always watched out for her. Because of that, there had been a time that she had fancied herself half in love with him. It made Pansy blush to think of just how silly she had been in their first couple years of Hogwarts, the way she hung on to Draco all the time. Her mother had revealed to her shortly before she left for Hogwarts that Draco was part veela, and that had only fanned the flames of her imagination. One of Pansy's favorite pastimes back then was daydreaming how Draco would declare that she was the only one for him and how they would live happily ever after.

But that was thankfully in the past, and she had got wiser since then. Pansy knew Draco better than he knew himself. After she had got over her girlish fantasies of the perfect romance, it had been blindingly obvious to her that her best friend was obsessed with a certain Gryffindor witch. She snorted. One would have to be a bloody idiot to miss that, seeing how he ranted about her day and night.

Of course it was just like Draco to fixate upon a witch whose best friends were wizards. One didn't have to be a genius to figure out that was asking for trouble. Draco tended to be possessive in the first place, never having learned how to share. And for his destined witch to be in close proximity to the same two wizards day in and day out—it was a disaster waiting to happen. Pansy had lost count of how many times she had thrown herself at her friend, all but shrieking at him to grab his attention, so she could distract him before he acted upon his instincts. Because that wouldn't end well, not at all. Thankfully her antics had done the trick so far, even though her reputation had taken a hit.

_Although it seems like all my hard work has been for naught, if the look on Granger's face is anything to go by,_ Pansy groused silently.

"So what do you think?" asked Theo. "Will they sit with us or with the Gryffindors?"

"Of course they're sitting with us," said Greg.

"Where else would Draco sit?" added Vince. "He always sits with us."

"My bad. I forgot the two of you lacked anything resembling an imagination," Theo drawled. He turned to look over at Pansy and Blaise, raising an eyebrow to indicate that he expected a more intelligent response from them.

"I think they'll eat with the Gryffindors," said Blaise. "Draco never did have much of a sense of self-preservation."

"And that's why I think they'll be here with us," Pansy said. "If Potty and the Weasel were there, then Draco would certainly head on over there. But as they're not…well sitting over here will only further irk Granger's temper and that's exactly the sort of stupid move Draco's likely to do."

"Interesting reasoning there," Theo said clinically. A glint appeared in his eyes. "Care to put any money on that proposition?"

Pansy leveled her best glare at him. "I'm not stupid, you know. I know that whichever way I bet, you have some trick up your sleeve to change the outcome to your liking."

"Indeed," agreed Blaise. "There is such a thing as being too clever for your own good, you know."

"It's funny that you should say that, seeing how you have the same problem and all," Pansy noted.

Blaise clutched his hands to his chest in mock despair. "Pansy! How could you? And here I thought that you—"

"Thanks ever so much for proving my point." She rolled her eyes, tired of his antics.

"And it looks like they are headed over here," Theo smoothly interrupted their argument. "You should've taken up that bet while you could."

Pansy sighed. "Again I'm not stupid. Merlin. Aren't you a little bit young to be suffering from hearing loss?" Blaise tittered at that verbal snipe, and her temper went further down the drain. It was going to be a long day.

_Scratch that,_ she thought as Draco guided Granger to the seat next to her. _It's not going to be just a long day. Breakfast itself will be a bloody eternity._

"Good morning, Pansy," Draco greeted her cheerfully. "You know Hermione, right?"

"I've seen her around here and there," she replied dryly. "You have my sympathies, Granger, for having to deal with him."

"Hey! I resent—"

"Resemble that remark," Theo interjected. "My, my. Where are your manners today, Draco?" He smiled charmingly at Granger from his perch across from her. "Well as it seems that since Draco has lost all sense of civility, I'll just have to introduce myself. I'm Theo, and I must say you look much more lovely in person close up than—"

He never got a chance to finish what he was going to say for Draco drew his wand and leveled it straight at his friend's head. "Mine," he all but growled.

Theo simply rolled his eyes. Despite herself, Pansy couldn't help but admire his grace in the face of certain death. "And I'm positive that Miss Granger loves this barbarian side of you. Do try to control yourself, Draco. You're giving all of us Slytherins a bad name."

A mad, deranged look covered Draco's face. Theo had pushed him too far. Granger had latched on to his arm and was whispering something in his ear, but Pansy could tell that he was still dangerously on edge. She knew him best after all. She uttered a deep sigh. It was far too early to see any of her mates wind up in the hospital wing, and that meant it was time for her to intervene.

"Stop that, Theo," she said flatly.

"But Pansy! I'm only trying to help Draco for otherwise he might lose—"

"Shut it right now." She leaned forward to glare at the wizard. "Otherwise I promise you that I'll destroy you." Those words were no an idle threat. She was a Slytherin after all, and she was the unofficial leader of all the Slytherin witches for a good reason.

She was absolutely ruthless when someone crossed her.

That combined with her killer instinct to know just where to strike to hurt someone the most made her a formidable opponent. She had proven just how dangerous she was within a month of arriving at Hogwarts. Daphne Greengrass had taken to comparing Pansy's face to that of a pug every chance she got, and after three weeks of such taunting, Pansy had had enough. She smirked as she remembered the revenge she had concocted. Daphne's hair still hadn't recovered.

And so Pansy's threat found her mark. Theo immediately went quiet. He was clever enough to realize that he didn't stand a chance against her, especially since Draco would side with her. He did always, but he would do so this time with a vengeance. Pansy knew that Theo knew he would be begging for mercy before lunch if he went up against the two of them. The threat to his mate subsided, Draco lowered his wand in favor of clutching Granger's hand possessively.

"You must care for him very much," a soft voice said from beside her. Pansy turned to see that Granger was looking thoughtfully at her. Pansy had a pretty good idea just what Granger was thinking about.

"I've known Draco before I could even walk," she said simply. "He's like the annoying, younger brother I've never had. Which is just as well, I suppose, for if I had one, I'm dead certain that the two of them would've joined forces to bother me incessantly."

"Imagine that," Granger said drolly. Pansy could tell Granger's thoughts had turned to Potty and the Weasel from the way Draco's eyes glowed silver alone.

_Great, just great. Draco's going to be like this until the two of them finally mate. And something tells me Granger's the sort of witch who would insist on waiting in a normal relationship, much less one with a boy she's been at odds with for practically forever. I have no idea how I'm going to keep him out of trouble until then._

"What are you doing?" Pansy snapped to attention at Granger's screech. Draco had begun piling food upon Granger's plate, and she looked none too pleased at the gesture.

"You don't eat enough," he said in a gruff manner as he continued to add food to the Gryffindor's plate.

"Well I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite at the moment." Granger tossed her head snottily.

Pansy didn't like the insinuation Granger had made, that Slytherins weren't to be trusted. "Why? It's not like we're going to poison you," she told the other witch.

"You better not." Draco glowered at her. "If you do—"

Pansy also didn't care for her old friend threatening her. _And after all I've done for that boy too! I suppose I can't hold it against him—it's not as though he can control himself when it comes to her, more's the pity._ She rolled her eyes. She would just have to calm him down. "You know me better than that," she said simply. "I don't have to prove myself to you."

Instantly he deflated, all threat gone from his posture. "Yeah, yeah I do. And no, no you don't." He looked thoroughly embarrassed at her calm reprimand. Pansy smiled wanly at him. She always thought he was cute when flustered. It was too bad that she wasn't his mate. No one understood him the way she did. By all rights, he should have been hers.

But then Draco never did like to take the easy way out.

It was really just too bad.

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**Author's note: **A shorter update than usual, but it's better than none I hope. The next chapter should be back up to the usual size. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**The Moody Veela Chronicles**

**Chapter Five**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine as HP doesn't belong to me.

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Silence spoke volumes. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably in her seat between Malfoy and Parkinson. The two Slytherins had fallen silent after that last exchange between them. Draco was now focused on eating and getting her to eat while there was a faraway expression in Parkinson's eyes.

Clearly Pansy Parkinson had been in love with Draco Malfoy once. _Or rather, she still is._ Hermione sighed softly. She could feel sympathy for the other witch, having been in a similar position with Ron and all. It was too bad for all of them that Draco hadn't fixated on his old friend instead. Life would have been easier then.

A sharp gasp sounded from Draco, and she turned to face him. To her shock, his eyes were wide and full of pain. "What's wrong?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm awkwardly as she tried to soothe him.

"What's wrong?" he repeated. "Nothing," he said, "except for the fact that you don't want me."

She bit back a groan. She had read how veelas were capable of sensing their mates' moods and all, and evidently Draco must have caught a whiff of what she had been feeling. She would have to be more careful in the future, but for now, she had a heartbroken veela to attend to.

"That's not true," she said. Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears, and Malfoy looked unconvinced. Hermione took a deep breath and then tried again. "I mean I knew how you and I are…that is how I'm your…."

"Mate," he supplied for her in a forlorn manner.

Hermione winced at his tone. It was plain to see that he was also hurt by her reluctance to state their relationship in front of his friends. Well that at least was something she could remedy. "Yes, how I'm your mate and all. It's one thing to know, but getting used to this is…well it will take some time, that all." She smiled at him, hoping to prod one from him in turn, but to no avail. Seeing how her attempts at consoling him were failing, she decided to take another tack.

"Besides, I don't see why you'd be worried about me not wanting you. I thought veelas were renowned for knowing how to um…." She flushed deeply, unable to complete that sentence as she looked over his lean yet muscular figure. Her mind promptly entered the gutter and stayed there.

Her veela was definitely too handsome for his own good—and for her own peace of mind. It was hard to think straight when she stopped to appreciate just how delectable he truly was.

Her new train of thought, however, seemed to turn the trick as a smirk appeared on Malfoy's face as he realized just what she was thinking about. "Ah yes. That we are. Thanks for reminding me, love." He nudged closer to her so that his leg was pressed up against hers.

Hermione could feel herself grow hot. _How does he do that?_ she wondered. _One minute I'm scrambling to make him feel better, and the next, he's doing something to make me all hot and bothered. Although all I think he's doing right now is looking at me. Oh dear. This is _not _good._

She turned her eyes towards her plate and started pushing around her eggs. This morning was definitely not going the way she had planned. She didn't know when she had lost control of the situation to Draco—actually scratch that. She was rather sure she had lost control when he had first turned up to escort her to breakfast. That was pretty sad but true. It had started with that kiss he had surprised her with and had continued with the way he had led her to the Slytherin table before she could even protest.

All things considered, it was rather obvious that she not only had a moody veela on her hands, but a deviously manipulative one as well. Hermione could admit to herself that she hadn't planned for such a contingency. Now that she knew, she had to get to the library post-haste to consider what her next step should be.

She put down her fork abruptly. "Well breakfast has been lovely," she said, "but it's high time that I get to the library." She tried to get up, but found that Malfoy's hand had snaked around her waist, keeping her in her seat.

"You've not even touched your breakfast yet," Malfoy told her sternly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him then reached out with one delicate finger to touch a piece of toast. "There. Happy?"

"No," he replied. "Your eating habits leave much to be desired. You're going to make yourself sick, the way you ignore food. You're not on some silly diet, are you? As I think you're perfect the way you are."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Hermione said. She paused. That had sounded more snarky than she had intended. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I do appreciate the compliment, but I really do need to get to the library."

To her dismay, Malfoy's response was to frown down at her rather than let her go. "There's only a half hour before class," he said, his tone sounding eminently reasonable. "By the time you get to the library, you'll have about ten minutes to study before you have to get to class. That's time much better spent eating so you'll have enough energy for the day, don't you think?"

Hermione sighed in defeat and nodded her head. "Sometimes it's hard to keep up with your moods, you know," she said grumpily as she picked up her fork once more. "You go from gloomy and depressed to over-protective in a blink of an eye."

"Well you only have yourself to blame for that, Granger," drawled Nott from his seat across from her. He was instantly the target of glares from both herself and Draco. "What?" he asked innocently. "I was only referring to the fact that Draco's moods are unlikely to stabilize until the two of you finally consummate your bond."

A wicked grin appeared on the Slytherin's face, and Hermione just knew she wasn't going to like what he was going to say next. A soft growl sounded from beside her, signaling that Draco felt the same as her.

Nott ignored those warning signs and pressed on. "If you want to leave breakfast early, I think a much better use of your time would be to stop by the broom closet closest to Potions. If you go now, there will be plenty of time for you and Draco to take care of matters."

Hermione's mind went blank. The smirking Slytherin in front of her couldn't have been implying what she thought he was implying. Then he threw her an impudent wink, confirming her suspicions. She groaned out loud and then turned to look at Parkinson, hoping to find some female solidarity. "Are they always this bad?" she asked plaintively.

Parkinson tilted her head to one side as she considered the question. "No," she finally said. "They're usually much, much worse. I think they're on their best behavior right now actually."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "This is their best behavior?" she asked. Then she looked over at Draco and poked him sharply in his side. "I hope you're not thinking along those same lines," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous." The blond wizard wrinkled his nose in disgust. "A broom closet? How utterly unromantic. Using the Room of Requirement is a much better idea." His eyes glazed over as his face took on a dreamy countenance. "I can just see it now…you and me under the moonlight, our bed strewn with roses…now that's romantic." He finished with a sigh that could only be called girlish.

"Romantic?" Hermione repeated. "But there's nothing romantic about having no choice but to bond with—" She trailed off in horror, not finishing that thought.

"I…I…I didn't.…" she stammered nervously, unable to look him in the eye.

It was too late though. The damage was done. Draco's form stiffened. "I see," he said. "It appears that I was right all along. You do want nothing to do with me. Never fear, Granger. I may long for you, but I shall face my demise with all the dignity and pride that befits a Malfoy." With that, he rose from the breakfast table and stalked away.

"Bloody hell," she cursed aloud as she got up to chase after him. That didn't sound good at all. If anything happened to Malfoy, she would be responsible for it. "Ouch!" she exclaimed as a sharp set of claws dug into her arm. She glanced down at it to see Parkinson glaring fiercely at her.

"You better fix this," the other witch hissed. "I swear if anything happens to my best friend…."

"Yes, yes, I know. Death will be too good for me and all that rot. Now will you let me go? And if you have any ideas of where he's likely to hide, that would be appreciated too."

"Try the Quidditch pitch if it's empty, the lake if it's not," Parkinson answered. She shook her head in disgust. "Fate couldn't have picked a worse mate for Draco than you. Now go!" she commanded as she let go of Hermione's arm.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She was off like a shot, desperate to find Malfoy before he did anything stupid because of her. As she raced through the halls at Hogwarts, she couldn't help but think how horribly unfair she had been to Draco ever since discovering that she was his mate. She had promised to give him a chance and all, but she had only been focused on what she wanted and hadn't spared a thought for what he might want.

A stitch developed in her side as she ran towards the Quidditch pitch. By the time she reached there, she was out of breath and gasping huge gulps of air. As she breathed heavily, she looked around for signs of her veela. To her dismay, there were none.

_Lovely. He must be at the lake then,_ she thought. _No time to rest. I _have_ to find him_. As she turned around to head towards the lake, a flash of silver caught her eye from under the Slytherin stands.

_Aha!_ Hermione slowly walked towards the stands. She took care to act as though she was headed towards the lake and never looked at the spot where Draco was hiding. Just as she was passing him by, she whipped out her wand and called out, "_Petrificus totalus!_" The resulting thud confirmed her aim was true.

"Finally," she said as she stomped over to Malfoy. His steely stare was shooting daggers at her, but she merely rolled her eyes. With another wave of her wand, she released him from her spell and promptly began to lay into him.

"What were you thinking, running off like that?" she shouted. "You gave us all a scare!"

"Oh my bad," he replied dryly. "I wasn't aware you cared."

Hermione bit her lip. She could understand why he might think that. "I do care," she said, "and I know what I said was thoughtless and cruel and I was going to apologize, but you never gave me a chance to!"

His eyes narrowed at her, and his nostrils flared. "No apology is needed, Granger," he said coldly. "I have no wish for your pity. In fact, I would rather die than become your next charity case."

"Argh!" she cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Haven't you been listening to me? I've been trying to tell you I'm sorry!"

"Don't you tell me what to do!" he shouted back. "And I don't want you to feel sorry about me. I just want you to leave me alone!"

"You are the most impossible man I've ever met," Hermione told him. She saw him opening his mouth to toss out a retort and decided to take a page out of his own book.

She stood up on her toes and kissed him.

The reaction she got from his was instantaneous. His arms enveloped her, and he hoisted her up with ease. His tongue ran against her lips, as though asking for permission, and she opened them eagerly, happy to give him the access he wanted. She closed her eyes as she relished how close they were—their mouths fused together and her body pulled flushed against him.

Malfoy pulled away from her and set her down, frowning but looking satisfied at the same time. "Who would have thought you would resort to such underhanded tactics?" he asked with a smile.

"I learned from the best," was her answer. She took a deep breath and then pressed on. "Look Malfoy, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to hear it," he interrupted her.

"Too bad. You got stuck with a selfish witch for a mate so you're just going to have to learn to deal with that." That shut him up. Hermione blinked back tears from her eyes. "I am sorry," she told him. "I kept thinking about myself and how you weren't my dream wizard and…and I never stopped to think that I wasn't exactly your dream witch."

"I wouldn't say that," he said softly.

She shook her head sharply, which sent her curls flying. "You can't convince me that as a child you would dream of falling in love with a bossy Muggle-born witch who is overly fond of books."

"Hmm…that sounds rather kinky when you put it like that." He was now smirking at her.

"Stop that! I'm trying to be serious here."

"So am I."

She huffed in exasperation. "Could you please let me finish? I was so caught up in thinking of ways I could improve you and all that I completely lost sight of the fact that I'm not exactly a catch either, that I have my own glaring faults. Rather than trying to compromise, I just wanted to have everything go my way…and that was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

She looked down at her feet, truly ashamed at the way she had behaved the last day. "I would like to give us another chance…that is if you're still amenable to the idea."

"Seeing how it's either that or I die, I don't think I really have much choice."

Hermione winced at his choice of words. Malfoy definitely had a point. She shivered and crossed her fingers, hoping that he wouldn't find death preferable to her.

"Don't be silly." A hand reached out and lifted up her face. He kissed her again, but this time softly and slowly and with a gentleness that infused her with all of his love for her. Hermione was on the verge of swooning when he ended it. "Though I suppose it's inevitable that there will be times that you'll make me wish I were dead, there's no one I would rather be with than you—and I like to think that I would feel the same way even if I weren't a veela."

"Glad to hear that." Hermione bit her lip, trying to think of what they should do next. "Come on then. Let's go to the library. We can look up ways that you can put up with my friends—because I would really really like it if you could—and if there are any bad habits you'd like me to work on, we can make a list for that too and how I might improve. I think I'd like to be better for you," she concluded, her cheeks tinged in pink.

"I don't think that's a good idea, my dear," said Malfoy.

"Why not?"

"Because while I love the idea of spending the entire morning alone with you," he said, "we're already late for Potions as it is. I don't know about you, but I can't afford to miss a class with our N.E.W.T.s being just around the corner."

Hermione gasped. "It's that late already?" she cried. She tugged at Draco's arm. "Move it, Malfoy. We're late!" As she dashed off in a blind panic, the sounds of his laughter echoed behind her as he languidly followed after.

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**Author's note:** Another short update, I know, but hopefully still amusing enough. My thanks to everyone kind enough to leave a review. :D


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